The Devil You Know
by wevegotobsessions
Summary: With tensions rising in foreign affairs, Agent 007 is sent to investigate. But is his assistance all as innocent as it seems? Post-Skyfall, 00Q themes, smut (starts chapter 10 ;) )
1. Chapter 1

Q paced through the basement of Mi6 with a confident gait. In his left hand, he held a leather briefcase. In his right, a scrambled signal phone. He glanced at it.

'Pj4.'

Q had been working on Project 4 for years before he'd entered the secret service. Before he was recruited, he used his blindingly excellent IT skills for a much less honest cause.

He sighed.

Can't escape your past.

He reached the vault, and pulled it open. They were already there.

'Q.'

'Leonardo.' A lean man with brassy hair swept off his large forehead waved him in. He could smell egoism on him. He despised a young person's vanity.

He gestured towards a table, and Q laid the briefcase down on it.

'Is it all there?'

'Everything I've done so far.'

Leonardo considered this, his thin lips bunched at the side.

'When can it be finished?'

'M's looking to get Bond out on this next mission. It could be ready by then.'

'Could?'

'I'm not a miracle maker.'

Leonardo glared at him with a look of disgust.

'Remember your position. I could end your career with just one phone call.'

Silence.

'And why did you have me back?'

'We need your...knowhow.'

Q smirked.

'You can't hold me with blackmail forever. I can move on from Mi6.'

'Can you, though? After everything, could you just leave it all behind? Of course not! You're addicted to the deception! M can praise you for work that he has no idea is for me. Even James is too stupid to se-'

'Bond isn't stupid.' he shot at him, his head springing up from the briefcase. Leonardo simply smiled.

'Your puerility betrays you, Q. You trust too easily.'

'If that were true, I wouldn't have gotten where I am.'

'If that's not true, why are you here? Why did you agree to work for me all those years ago?'

Q looked Leonardo in the eyes, a smile plastered all over his face.

'I was bored.' he picked up the briefcase and headed to the vault door. He rested a hand on it as he turned back into the room.

'And you've got to be wary of the people who do this for fun.'

And with that, he left...


	2. Chapter 2

Ring ring.  
A lazy stretch to the side of the bed.  
'Are you really going to answer that?'  
Hands felt their way over James' chest, caressing his exposed skin. He broke away to pick up the phone.  
'Bond.'  
'We all bloody-well know that.'  
'M, nice of you to call.' He coughed the sleep from his voice. The girl in the bed pressed her ear as close to the phone as she could manage.  
'Don't flatter yourself. I need you in.'  
'Can't it wait?' a girlish giggle spliced its way into M's receiver. He sighed.  
'This is not what you're paid for.'  
'And I'll remember to thank the taxpayer for indulging my lifestyle. Now, if you don't mind, I have a more important case on.'  
'Bond, I swear. If you hang up now, I w-' he dropped the phone onto the bedside table. He stroked the girl's hair.  
'Where were we?' More giggles. She drew in, and they kissed to the soundtrack of M's fury.  
'Bond! When you get down to HQ, you are screwed! BOND!'  
Gently, he began to pull away, sweeping the covers off his legs.  
'James!' she cried, wrapping the sheets around herself. Her blonde hair lay in tangled rivulets down her back.  
'Sorry, my dear. England calls.'

It was less than thirty minutes before 007 arrived at Mi6.

His immaculately tailored suit sat crumpled on his neat frame; it had been a late night. He yawned as he stepped over the threshold of the building. As soon  
as he did-  
'If you make me look like a tit one more time, you're over, Bond.'  
'Good morning to you too.' He began his rapid descent down the glass steps. M followed angrily behind.  
'I mean it. This is a serious mission. It can't be put on hold because it's not convenient for you.'  
'I understand, Sir. I'm sorry.' A surprisingly firm hand halted James' brisk walk.  
'No, Bond, I don't think you do. There are lives on the line here, and we can't risk a repeat of last time.'  
'I know, I j-'  
'Do you know how many agents we lost, Bond? Too many. I'm not having your bloody playboy attitude let it happen again.'  
Pause.  
'Sir.'  
'You need an ego check, and I know just the man to give you it.'  
From the corner of Bond's perifery stepped his Quartermaster. He gave him a sarcastic salute.  
'How do you look so radiant so early in the morning?'  
'I have my ways.' he winked, his green eyes glinting in the harsh light. He turned to M.  
'Good to see you, Sir.'  
'Q.' M took his outstretched hand and shook it. 'I was hoping you could get Bond kitted up for the Verona mission, and perhaps teach him some humility while  
you're at it.' He smiled.  
'The former, no problem. I'm afraid I may have a bit of trouble with the latter.' A warning look from Bond.  
'Stick to computers. Comedy's not really your thing.'  
'I have no doubt I'll learn, from a thing as sharp as yourself.' He glanced back at M. 'Thank you for bringing him, Sir. I'll start on the mission gear brief  
whenever you're ready.'  
He clapped his hands and grubbed them together excitedly.  
'No time like the present.'  
'Quite.' A sly smile crossed Q's lips. 'I'll have him ready within the hour.'  
'I have no doubt at all. Good luck.' He said, patting him sharply between the shoulder blades. It was an unconfrontary action, but one that made Q tense. It  
was a reminder what that man was capable of...  
'You're gonna need it.' He laughed, walking from the room.


	3. Chapter 3

'Now, take the gun, but don't aim directly at the target.' Bond gave him a quizzical look.  
'Trust me.' His gentle smile softened Bond's stiff posture. He re-shuffled his position.  
'Now you're weaving. You need to be more like this.' He approached Bond, resting his soft hands on his waist.  
'Spread your legs.' James turned to face Q.  
'I beg your pardon.' The sultry tones of his rich voice rang around the room. Q's face dropped, and Bond chuckled.  
'Like this?' he turned back to the target, parting his legs out of his rigid stance.  
'Erm...yes...perfect.' Q muttered, flustered. He coughed, trying to compose himself. 'Well, yes. You're going to need to aim just off your target for this to  
work. See, the bullet richochets, re-programmes inflight and hits just right of your original target.'  
'Interesting.'  
'It is. It buys you more time. Your target is less likely to dodge if they think you're aiming in the wrong direction. It's very-' he was stopped by a rough  
finger to his lips. James smirked at his bewildered quartermaster.  
'Don't want to give too much away. Wouldn't want to ruin the surprise now, would you Q?'  
'No, Sir.' Bond removed finger, turning from him with a shake of his head.  
'Good.' He cocked the gun and shot just right of it's target. As promised, it bounced back, as if from a wave of air, re-poisitioned itself and hit the  
target right in the heart.  
'Perfect.'Q whispered, with the gunshot ringing in his ears. This was the start of the plan that he would set into action. This was the start of Bond's  
downfall. How he'd hate to see him go, especially after such intimate moments.  
Oh well, he thought, thinking of the look on his pretty face when he realised he had been betrayed. It played out deliciously in his head as Bond took  
another shot.  
'What else have you got?'  
'Oh, there's plenty more where that came from, I assure you.'


	4. Chapter 4

'So what's the mission?'  
M traced his finger round the glass tabletop as he spoke.  
'A rogue Italian agent has stolen some top secret documents. The bastard's threatening to sell the damn things to the newspapers. Your mission is to find the files before he sells them. Our sources say he's meeting with people to discuss a deal some time in the next week.'  
'His name?' M pushed an open folder into James' hand. His grip wavered slightly at the enormous weight of it.  
'Renzo Barone. He worked on the "Servizio per le Informazioni e la Sicurezza Militare" until 2007, when it was shut down. Most agents moved to the "Agenzia Informazioni e Sicurezza Esterna", but they operate outside of Italy, and Barone couldn't leave.' Bond only half-listened to M's immaculate Italian whilst scanning the file. Old photos, smeared with the sadness of a lost reality. It was a fact; you move with the Service, or it leaves you behind, and being left behind made you susceptible to all sorts of behaviour. Selling secrets would be one. The main one, in fact. It was all too common a story.  
'He was a genius, according to his commanders. He'd deal with overseas affairs, mostly because he could speak five languages.'  
'Well-respected?' Bond asked, turning a page.  
'Very much so. He was revered by his colleagues, but they found him erratic at times. The price of his aptitude, they believed.'  
'But it was something much more sinister.'  
'Quite right.' James laid the file back down on the desk. 'Bond, you are ready for this, aren't you?'  
'Why wouldn't I be?'  
'This man is capable. He's expert at his criminality, and he won't let you stop him. I want you ready for a fight.'  
Bond nodded. He was much too tired to sass poor M any further.  
'I've had the flight scheduled for tomorrow. You leave at four.'  
'Can't we make it half past?' he winked. M's expression remained stony.  
'You leave at four.'  
'Yes, Sir.' Bond pushed up from his chair and headed for the door.  
'Oh, and Bond?' He glanced back into the office, his hand rested on the chrome door handle.  
'He has a brother. Leonardo Barone. He's been bothering Mi6 for some time. I thought you ought to know.'  
'Thank you, M.'  
'Goodbye, Bond.'


	5. Chapter 5

'The 7:35 flight to Verona Villafranca is now boarding at Gate 9.' A ditzy voice boomed from the tannoys above 007's head. He missed the days of private  
travel. M preferred to appear as inconspicuous as possible, something that Bond had never liked about him. Where's the fun in being too careful?  
He rose to join the growing crowd of holidaymakers. An attractive couple stood amourously, whilst a walkabout child from a family of five weaved in and out  
of their legs. He scanned the rest of the line, but his eyes rested on a beautiful girl with black corkscrew-curled hair. Suddenly, she looked up.  
Moneypenny.  
He approached her.  
'What on Earth are you doing here?' he asked, a bemused smile on his lips.  
'Some of us like to take holidays every now and then,' she replied, 'and not just when we're supposed to be working.'  
He shuffled into the line, just behind her.  
'How's that crack shot of yours?'  
'I'm in the field anymore, remember? Besides, why are you here? Surely all that tech's not allowed on a comercial flight?' her voice softened to a whisper.  
'The security questions were quite hard to answer.' She rolled her eyes. 'M's sending it over. He doesn't really go for the whole parachuting in thing. Too  
obvious.'  
'I have absolutely no idea why he would think that.' she replied, in mock-confusion. Bond took comfort in finding a match for his piercing sarcasm.  
'Where would you be staying, Miss Moneypenny?'  
'Oh, Mr Bond. If you are looking for an invitation, I can assure you one is most definitely on the table.'  
He smiled. 'Not when I'm supposed to be working.'  
The queue disappeared as everyone boarded the plane. Bond rocked momentarily on the threshold of the walkway. He heard Moneypenny snicker as he almost  
stumbled. Civilian life was desperate.  
'Tickets please.' the air hostess requested, smiling fakely. She reached Bond. 'Tickets please.' He gave his, winking slightly at her. She let out a childish  
giggle as she gestured down the left hand side of the plane. He went to take his seat.  
As he flung his hand luggage in the overhead locker, he felt warm breath tingle against the skin of his neck.  
'You again?'  
'If it's any consolation, I'm getting rather sick of the sight of you, too.'  
'Charming.' he said, slipping into his seat.  
Moneypenny hoisted her brown leather satchel into the locker.  
'4A?'  
'Indeed.'  
'4B.' she laughed, slipping in next to him.  
'Was this Mallory?'  
'Most probably.'  
The usual shower of clunks and clicks resonated around the cabin as everyone fastened their seatbelts.  
The Captain made a droll announcement, whilst the plane shakily taxied to its take-off. This was followed by the obligatory safety announcement. Bond leaned  
over to Moneypenny.  
'I haven't had to sit through this shit for years.'  
'Welcome to real life.' she muttered.  
Shortly after the pointing out of the exits and the demonstration of how to inflate a lifejacket, they were in the air.  
Beep.  
The seatbelt sign deluminated above everybody's head. There were some scuffles as people made a beeline for the toilet.  
'So, why Verona?' Bond asked, glancing out of the window.  
'I was going to ask you the same thing.' His head snapped towards her.  
'Maverick Italian agent, selling secrets. The usual.' She nodded.  
'Well, if you must know, I just think it's quite romantic.'  
'So you're looking for a gorgeous Italian boy to stab yourself over?'  
'Of course.' she looked him right in the eye, 'Why not?' He met her gaze momentarily, then began to peek around the cabin.  
'So you're sure this is a holiday?'  
'No, I've been discharged again. I just couldn't stop shooting agents. I'm known as the Killer Secretary of Mi6.' she replied sardonically. He shrugged it  
off. 'Have you heard the rumours?' Bond looked back to her, a smack of bewilderment hitting his face.  
'What rumours?'  
'You know, about Q branch.'  
'I most certainly do not know.' She sighed, and began to speak in a hushed tone.  
'They've been saying there's an informer. A mole, if you will.' Bond took a slow breath.  
'No. If someone smells a mole, you can bet that M sniffed it out first. He's good at that.' Moneypenny looked away.  
'They're only rumours.'  
'Bloody stupid ones.'  
'Whatever you say, Bond. Whatever you say.'


	6. Chapter 6

The icy wind blew the rain into a dancing torrent, swirling carelessly in the thick London air. Stepping out from the canopied exit of Angel Station, Q  
turned up the coat collar of his beige trench coat. It was about a five minute walk to Daisy Cafe, where he'd meet one of Leonardo's men. He would be wearing  
a red jumper and a black beanie, and would only answer to 'Jambo'. He'd been instructed to bring nothing but his knowledge of Project Four.  
It was a very bleak day.  
The sky was duck egg blue, streaked with greys and blacks that shadowed the clumps of gloomy cloud. The rain was now lashing down, shining on the pavements  
as drops bounced back up. People ran. A businesswomen in a tight skirt and kitten heels dashed back to work, protecting her hair with a pink plastic folder.  
A group of tourists bustled along the streets in flourescent yellow ponchos. A busker played relentlessly, rainwater sloshing in his polished saxophone.  
Tucking into a side street, Q had reached his destination.  
He breezed through the door, taking off his coat. He shook it over the doormat and quickly threw it over his arm. He scanned the cafe; the stained wooden  
tabletops glistening through his fogged lenses. He saw others at tables, one person eyeing him particularly suspiciously...  
All of a sudden, a fleck of red appeared. He knew the question he had to ask. He approached the table.  
'Are you eating in then?'  
'Only if there's kippers on the menu.'  
'Jambo?'  
'Q.' Jambo nodded for him to take a seat. He did.  
'I have to say, I'm not exactly sure why I've been summoned.'  
'Because Barone wants to know exactly what's gonna happen when Bond pushes the button.'  
'I've told him already.'  
'Well then, maybe be a bit more specific this time.' he growled, exentuating his Cockney accent. Q dared to sigh, but started his explanation straight away.  
'What I've given Bond looks like a detenator button but, in actual fact, it is the bomb.' He spoke with emphasis on every word, as if explaining to a child.  
Jambo grimaced. 'When Bond presses the button to detonate the bomb, it will explode. There isn't much space, but that much explosive would definitely kill  
him, if not a few others.'  
'And how do you know he's gonna need this bomb?'  
'I can send him a message from Mi6, telling him to detonate, though he'll probably see it fit to use it before anyway. Bond is resourceful, that'll help us.'  
'Won't be that hard to trace back to us, though. Barone wants none of the blame.'  
'Likewise. I'd hazard that it would be a slight knock to my career in espionage.'  
'Don't get smart. You're an ant in his game.'  
'And I can't pretend I don't feel the heat from his magnifying glass, but I intend to keep very much on top of this ordeal. I know what I'm doing. None of this can be traced back to me. It'll look just like a suicide. People believe that he's capable of almost anything. I'm using that to all our advantages.'  
'Just make sure you don't make any mistakes.'  
'And don't you make the mistake of underestimating me.'  
With a flourish of his trench coat, Q left the cafe and disappeared, once again, into the rain.


	7. Chapter 7

Bond had the target in his sight. Leaning against the smooth stone columns in the Piazza dei Signori, Renzo Barone jabbed at his phone. He seemed unsettled, though Bond doubted his presence had been detected. There was no sign of any papers or other documentation. Bond could find out where they were in next to no time. Slinking silently under the sculpted arches, Bond followed Barone's every action. His back ups were positioned around the perimeter of the square, ready for his word.  
'Know who you're watching?' He muttered through his concealed microphone. Agent Lister was in charge of the other operatives. His reply came instantly.  
'Positive. The slim guy in the tan jacket, nine o' clock.'  
There was a pause.  
'Cover me. I'm going in.'  
'Sir.'  
He began to move stealthily through the crowds of people, towards Renzo Barone.  
He looked up. And that was warning enough for him. He sprang backwards and turned to break into a sprint. Bond was quick to follow.  
Weaving through a side street cafe, Barone carried on running. Tables tipped and people fell about, flailing. He left behind a trail of angry Italian insults for Bond to follow. He took the shortcut around the outside of the cafe. He was gaining on him. Gradually. Gradually...  
The pursuit continued in and out of buildings, up winding streets and eventually into a seemingly uninhabited area. Barone darted into what seemed like an old barn, he wrenched the door closed, and the sound behind it suggesting he was building an indoor barricade. Bond sighed with every ounce of air he had left in his inwardly-collapsing lungs. He banged a balled fist against the door, out of frustration rather than any hope of getting inside. He wasn't a fool.  
Suddenly, there was an angry shout, and a body was thrust through a first floor window. With a slam, the window was sealed again. Bond rushed to their side; they were still alive. He rolled them to their front. It was an old woman. She was shaking, her limbs lying limply about her. He grabbed her by the shoulders, shaking her slightly.  
'Hello? Can you hear me?' A sequence of shrieks pierced the eerie silence. Bond could only make out certain words. 'Diavolo' and 'demone'. He tried to silence her, but she would not stop.  
'Is there anyone else inside?' her incessent, high-pitched chanting did not cease. Bond had to rack his brains to unearth some of the deep-rooted Italian he had learnt years ago.  
'C'è qualcun altro dentro?'

_Is there anyone inside? _

She stopped and looked up to him, held in an intense panic. Her eyes watered as they darted around his face.  
'Non! Non! Solo a me!' He exhaled through his nose, eyes closed.  
_Only me..._  
'Scappare da qui! Lasciare!' He shouted for her to get away, to leave. She moved as quickly as she could, scrambling desperately to her feeble legs. She hobbled away at an astonishing speed, looking back to Bond and the building with a look of utter disbelief. After about a minute, she'd disappeared round a distant corner.  
'Lister, have you got the briefcase?' A voice came over the earpiece.  
'Bringing it to you now. I'm right around the corner.' Sure enough, within a few silent seconds, he appeared, brandishing the briefcase.  
'Break down the screen and throw it in there.' Bond commanded, pointing to the window the old woman had been hurled from.  
'This means you won't get the documents?'  
'No, Lister. It'll scare him out. It won't kill him.' He nodded. He used the breifcase to smash the wood that barred the windows and threw it in.  
Bond unsheathed the detonator from his jacket pocket. 'Everything in position?'  
'Yes, Sir.'  
'Very go-'  
'BOND!' a voice interjected. It took a minute to recognise it.  
M.  
His finger rested on the side of the detonator.  
'M?' he asked, more than slightly taken aback.  
'Bond, for Christ sakes! Do NOT touch that button!'  
'Button?'  
'The bomb detonator. It's not a detonator. It's been rigged.'  
'Rigged? What the Hell, M? What ar-'  
'Someone at Q branch snapped. The detonator's the bomb. Press it and you're dead. You and Lister.' he seemed out of breathe. Bond couldn't blame him. It was a little close for comfort. He still couldn't quite believe what he was hearing.  
'H-How?' Impatience was building in his voice.  
'We don't have time. I'm arranging your flight back now. Private, of course. Get to the airport now.'  
'M, who the bloody hell did thi-'  
'Q!' A silence. Bond knelt down slowly, laying the detonator on my floor. He rose again, trying to process...  
Not Q.  
Anyone but Q.  
He needed to get away.  
He didn't care where Lister was. Or anyone else.  
He ran and ran, and he kept running until the sky went dark.


	8. Chapter 8

It wasn't five seconds from the phone call to Bond that Q was being summoned to the vault.  
He got there in double time; the call seemed urgent. One thing he had learnt was not to panic before you knew whether or not there was anything to panic about. He definitely didn't know what this was about. He had guessed it wasn't good.  
He hardly had chance to step through the door before the questions were hurled at him.  
'How do they know? Did you tell someone? Why would you? Do you really think I'm gonna save you?'  
'Sir, with all due respect, I have no idea what you're talking about.' An agitated looking Barone approached Q and slapped him in the face. Surprised, he let his mouth loll open. He was beginning to realise what had happened.  
'You're a fucking idiot! These are not the kind of fucking things you boast about!' Barone swore, but never this frequently. They had definitely been found out. 'Oh, but no! You had to tell the whole of Q branch that we're planning to fucking blow up James Bond. You make me sick.'  
'I didn't tell anyo-'  
'If you think that I'm taking the rap for this shit, you think wrong. I'm gonna let you assume the blame all by yourself. It's the least of what you deserve. You do not ever fucking compromise me. Not many do and live to tell the tale.  
'Now, you're gonna leave and I'm never gonna see you again. If I do, I will have you killed. Now get the fuck out of here.'  
Q was smart enough to know that he meant every word. He half-ran from the vault, thoughts churning like butter in his sore head. They had found out. He was as good as dead, let alone out of his career. How could anyone know? He was almost sure there were no witnesses. Almost sure...  
At the cafe, there was someone watching him. He saw it out of the corner of his eye. He knew he should've thought something more of it. He knew.  
But now it was over.  
There'd be no way Jambo was affiliated with Mi6; he'd never be found again. Q, on the other hand...  
He stopped at the side of the corridor and closed his eyes. Broken visions scattered beneath his eyelids. He punched the wall as hard as he could to keep himself from screaming. Blood poured from his knuckles, dripping down his hand. He didn't care. Why had he been so stupid? Why? He saw Bond behind his eyes. Him in the gadget room, his smile... He saw his coffin, draped in a Union Flag. He saw his name etched solemnly into a memorial.  
There was only one thing to do now.  
If he was going to face this alone, he was going to face it with unquestionable dignity. He could become the famous traitor everyone oddly idolised. He had the means to start a riot; he could feel the foundations of Mi6 shaking beneath his feet. It was only a matter of time until infamy. Only a matter of time before he could get to Bond.


	9. Chapter 9

The next time Bond saw Q was in court. Due to the nature of the charges, M had found a way to bring it forward. People wore contemptuous looks that matched the scorn in their suits; the suits they only wore to sneer and glare in.  
Tanner had joined the Mi6 cohort in the early hours to discuss the crisis. He was good in crises.  
'Jesus, Bond. Are you alright?'  
'Why shouldn't I be?' His sarcasm was recognised, but Tanner pushed on.  
'But Q.'  
'That's why you don't invite six-year-olds to be in charge of your weapons. Might be an issue I'd take up with the Chief of Staff.'  
'Don't start. You were as oblivious as I was. As M was too.' They were halted in their conversation by the distant click of high heels on the marble floor. Eve Moneypenny was standing in the doorway, her silhouette thrown into the room.  
'Morning.' she said, a mournful note in her voice. Everyone had been a bit more than won over by Q. Too bad.  
'Miss Moneypenny.' Tanner replied. Bond stayed silent. She walked to the centre of the room, hovering above where the two were sat.  
'I can't believe it. I honestly can't.'  
'You should. You smelt a rat before all of us.' Confused, Tanner looked to Moneypenny. She ignored him.  
'I said they were rumours.'  
'Shouldn't all rumours be investigated before an agent is almost blown up?' he half-shouted, rising from his seat. Moneypenny approached him, blind rage in her eyes.  
'You said yourself they were stupid. If you want to pretend this was foreseeable, don't let me stop you, but don't you dare point the finger at me.'  
'You were the one with the gossip.'  
'If we took every whisper we heard seriously, we'd never leave the house. I told you what I'd heard, not what I knew for certain.'  
'It's not abou-'  
'Oh, but we know what it _is_ about! You put so much faith in him. You wanted him to be perfect and, now he's not, you're going to blame everyone else. Why don't you blame yourself, James? For letting you become so captivated by him? It's because you're not_ looking_ for someone to blame, are you? You're just hoping for someone who can turn back the clocks. So, instead of criticizing everyone else for what they couldn't predict, why don't you just accept that you couldn't make your little prodigy anything more than a traitor?' she spat, venom building in her voice. She took a last look at Bond and stormed from the room. James sank back into his chair, stewing in her words.  
'She's right, you know.' Tanner said, climbing from his chair. He headed for the door.  
'Go to Hell.' Bond shouted, in no particular direction. It took him a while to realise M, loitering soundlessly in the corner, had heard everything. But today was not the day for a heart-to-heart. They contemplated the trial in silence; the disappointment in the air almost tangible. They had both wanted to disbelieve the evidence. Seeing it brought to court was an unpleasant wake-up call, to say the least.  
'Hello?' M said, the sound of his voice breaking the eerie quiet. Bond realised it was a conversation that did not depend on his reply. He stayed mute.  
'Is that really necessary? Well, if you think it'll help. I wouldn't but...' he pressed his finger to his ear, the kind of action that was always warned against.  
_Anxiety_, Bond thought, _extreme anxiety_.  
'I'll send him now.' With that, he brought his finger down and slowly turned to Bond. 'Bond, you're needed.'  
'Where?'  
'Q's holding cell.'  
Bond swallowed hard, a bitter taste lingering on his tongue.  
'Sir.'


	10. Chapter 10

_author's note: this is gonna get smutty :3 i collaborated with a friend of mine for this chapter, as i am very much out of my depth in this sort of writing. she's kind of a first-timer too, so pls don't kill us. thank you. enjoy :)_

Bond paced quickly through the long corridors, past the mostly empty cells. Cries and calls from the few inmates, however, illustrated the blaring reality of the situation. He was visiting a friend, on trial for his own attempted murder. It burnt in some kind of exciting way; a thing he didn't realise until his lone walk. It was unnervingly clear that he was in awe of Q's dark genius. He reached the cell. Q sat on the cot, staring at the adjacent wall. He didn't look to Bond, even as he spoke.  
'Ah, 007. I'm glad you came. I never thought they'd actually send you.'  
'You asked for me?' Q turned his head. There was a ferocity in his eyes that Bond had never seen before.  
'Of course. I wouldn't go down without seeing my favourite agent.'  
'How do you know you're going down?'  
Q laughed darkly.  
'Please.'  
'You might not.'  
'Please don't insult my intelligence. I did manage to almost kill you.'  
'Almost.' Bond quipped, a hint of a smile visible on his tired face. Q stepped from the cot, striding slowly around the room.  
'Are you impressed?'  
'Sufficiently.'  
'How much is that?'  
'Enough to not make me a bad person.'  
'Define bad.'  
Bond chuckled.  
'I'd rather not.' There was a pause. Q sat back down.  
'Aaron!' he shouted. A stocky guard with an uneasy look and a uniform much too big for him stepped from the shadow of the farthest cell.  
'Yes, Sir?' Sir? He was a convict. He was- oh. He was scared of Q. Brilliant.  
'Could you please let Bond in?'  
'I...erm, I'm not meant to do that.'  
'Oh, please. I'm sure no-one would mind. And it will be the last time before I end up permanently behind bars.'  
You could almost hear his internal struggle. Good vs Evil. With a final sigh, he brought the key from his pocket.  
'Thank you, Aaron.' he smiled at the guard. He unlocked the door hastily and left straight away. Q called after him. 'I'd appreciate if you left for a while. Maybe take your lunch.' But he already had.  
Bond looked suitably impressed, glancing down the corridor, attempting to get a final look at the fleeing guard.  
'Well, what are you waiting for? I didn't get rid of him for nothing.'  
Bond pushed against the iron door, and came to rest on the threshold of the cell.  
'What could you possibly need me for now?'  
'Stimulation.' he smiled slyly at him. 'Come in.' Bond stepped in, trying to assert the dominance he didn't possess. Q had him wrapped round his little finger, an epiphany that Bond had not been prepared for. The most powerful person in the room was a disgraced boy in the clasp of madness.  
'Sit.' he commanded, gesturing to the cot, but staring straight ahead again. Bond complied, his eyes joining Q's, fixed on the blank wall.  
'You want me to help you escape.'  
'Oh no. My interest in you right now is purely salacious.' He said, his tone unbroken.  
'I like the new you, you're much more scandalous.' Q turned to Bond, hunger and lust in his face. He leant in to kiss him. Quickly locked in a fiery embrace, Bond's fingers traced Q's face, soon venturing further down.  
Moving closer together, he could feel Q's erection pressed against his stomach. A hand clawed at Bond's suit, tearing it, bit by bit, from his muscular body. His hands snaked their way into Q's pants, massaging his considerable bulge. He moaned in appreciation, ripping his own jacket from his body. He wrenched the tie from around Bond's neck and began to bind him to the barred, metal headboard.  
'Shhh.' Q grinned, his fingers teasing James' legs. Gently, he moved upwards, licking down his chest as he did. Bond groaned as Q approached his crotch. He took James' cock in his hand, slowly licking down the shaft. Pleasured moans escaped Bond's mouth. More. Q was going at an agonisingly slow pace.  
'Please.' he managed, through rasping breaths.  
'Patience.' he winked, beginning to rub his cock. He spat in his hands, continuing his work.  
'Q.' Bond breathed, squirming where he was tied.  
He took it into his mouth, sucking hard this time. He increased his pace, causing cries of pleasure from Bond.  
'Oh God. Fuck.'  
He slowed, licking slowly around the head. He began to pull away, his mouth dripping with saliva.  
'Turn over.'  
James complied, shifting his hands so his bonds wouldn't stop him.  
'Do you want me to make this hurt?'  
'Yes.'  
'I can't hear you.'  
'Oh fuck yes!'  
'Good.' he smirked. At first, he entered Bond carefully, thrusting in shallow bursts.  
'Make it hurt.' Bond yelled, through gritted teeth.  
Q began to thrust more deeply. His fingers felt all around Bond's body, teasing his pleasure points. A wave of immense satisfaction hit him, but he was not yet finished.  
'Faster.'  
Hands felt up to James' bound hands, yanking the tie tighter around them. Q thrusted faster, more deeply...  
He reached climax, panting for air and screaming Bond's name. He pulled out, ready to collapse.  
But Bond was not done. He pulled sharply on his makeshift cuffs, freeing himself. He turned over and began to rub his cock, filling again with the euphoria of Q's penetration. Breathless and still highly aroused, Q watched Bond.  
'Cum in my mouth.' he moaned, stroking his legs. Bond continued, finally finishing with a deep moan. He came in Q's mouth. He lapped it up in appreciation, swallowing quickly. He savoured the taste of James under his tongue and around his teeth. He fell, exhausted, onto James, and they fell soundly asleep inside the cell.


	11. Chapter 11

It was some hours later before Bond stirred. The sudden realisation of his nakedness and Q's presence in the bed shocked him slightly, only able to recall fragments of their escapade. He gently brushed Q's drooping hands from his bare chest, kissing his forehead as he slid from the cot. Silently, Bond dressed himself in his suit. The three garments were strewn around the cell; his tie lying limply under the bars of the headboard. He reached over to retrieve it, his fingers brushing softly through Q's hair. Bond smiled at the look of peace etched upon his sleeping face. If one was oblivious to his impending fall from grace, he was like an angel. _Hell_, James thought, threading the tie under his collar, _he is an ange_l.  
He breezed through the open cell door, the air filling with the sound of Q's breath. He took one last loving look back inside, and stepped back into the corridor.

Hearing the distinct clunk of his tailor-made Italian shoes, M jumped at Bond. Where he had been waiting, Bond did not know, nor did he want to think too long upon it.  
'Bloody hell, Bond.'  
'Problem?' His long strides made light work of the tiled corridor, as he snapped his cuffs back together.  
'You can bet. Where have you been?' M panted, keeping up to him with no small amount of effort.  
'I went where you sent me.'  
'For three hours? I'm not stupid.'  
'As if I'd even suggest it.'  
'If you've been shagging some maid-' Bond halted. M almost tripped in the sudden stop.  
'I can assure you, everything was totally innocent.'  
'It better have been. You've got to take the stand in about five minutes. This is a man who tried to kill you. If you don't stay focused, he might get away. The evidence against him is next to nothing.'  
'You're burnt because he betrayed you.' Something inside M snapped. Any attempts at a civil volume and polite tone vanished instantly.  
'He betrayed us all! You open your fucking eyes, Bond, because it's not always everyone else who's at fault. It's not easy to be as detached as you.'  
'Don't you dare act like I never cared about him.' It was Bond's turn to snap, a threatening finger poised at M's throat. 'You know I did.' M pushed Bond's hand down, looking more gravely upon him.  
'Just, please. Get out there and do what you're supposed to.'  
'Of course.'

'All Rise for Honourable Judge Akins.'  
There was a simultaneous shuffle of feet, and the entirety of the hall was standing. Bond glanced at his watch.  
The judge, a towering figure cloaked in red and black, stepped into his chambers at the front of the courtroom.  
'Please be seated.' he demanded, taking a seat himself. He filled the green leather chair fully; his presence was daunting enough to wheedle a confession out of the weaker defendant. 'Could we please hear the opening statement for the defence?'  
A weedy looking man stood instantly, bowing towards the judge.  
'Your Honour, we are here today to prove, beyond reasonable doubt, that the accused is innocent of all charges, on the grounds that there is no evidence against him.'  
The judge nodded, turning his attention to M's band of lawyers; a clear frenzy woven deep within their casual courtroom suits.  
'And the prosecution's opening statement?'  
'Your Honour, we are here to prove that the accused is, indeed, guilty of all charges.'  
'Very well. Mr Featherstone, if you could begin your questioning.' One of M's lawyers got to his uneasy feet. He coughed.  
'The prosecution calls Agent William Hudderson to the stand.' A pale man stepped into the witness box, shaking slightly. He seemed hollowed by the whole experience. He was handed a bible, and put a trembling hand to it. He read the card in his other hand.  
'I swear by Almighty God that the evidence I shall give shall be the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth.' He nodded, smiling, at the man with the Bible, handing him back the card. The prosecutor took the stand.  
'Agent Hudderson, could you tell the court exactly what you heard on the afternoon of Thursday the third?' He seemed startled by the question.  
'Erm, yes...I-I was in Daisy Cafe on - erm- White Conduit Street, when I saw Q come in.' he gestured to the unfazed accused, absently gazing around the courtroom.  
'Then what happened?' the prosecutor pushed.  
'Well, he saw another man - I didn't know him. He was wearing a red hoodie. Well, Q sat down next to him and I heard them saying things about blowing up James Bond. I wasn't sure, but I kept listening and they were definitely talking about Agent 007 and their plan to kill him.'  
'Are you sure this is what you heard? Can you remember exact words?'  
'I am sure, I can remember Q saying, exactly, "When Bond presses the button to detonate the bomb, it will explode. There isn't much space, but that much explosive would definitely kill him, if not a few others." I'm sure of that.'  
'Thank you, Agent Hudderson.' James looked towards the seated defence lawyer, jittering around his duty with the expert ability of a recent law school graduate with no experience. It finally hit him. Q picked his own representation, and he wasn't exactly poor. He could afford much better, but he'd done this on purpose. He wanted to go down. James smiled as he heard his name being called. He knew what that meant.  
He approached the stand. Once he'd sworn to tell the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth, the prosecutor began.  
'Agent Bond, can you describe your Veronan mission?'  
'Well, Mr Featherstone, we were in pursuit of a rogue agent, Renzo Barone. We followed him to an abandoned barn-like building, and a woman confirmed he was the only person inside. I'd been informed by Q branch,' he threw a quick glance at Q, twiddling his thumbs, 'that the weapon we were to use was a smoke bomb that would hopefully drive him out and we could retrieve the documents.'  
'But that turned out to be untrue?'  
'Indeed. M stopped me before I could do myself or Agent Lister any harm.'  
The defence perked up, 'Your Honour, if I may?' The Judge nodded.  
'Agent Bond, if you never detonated this device, how can you be sure it was anything but what you were told?'  
'If I'm not mistaken, the device was take back to HQ and tested there. It did explode. Quite powerful, apparently, for such a small device.'  
'Can anyone confirm this? With evidence?'  
'M?' he said, gesturing to his superior. He nodded, and brought out a phone-like device. He clicked a few buttons, and a video began to play on a screen at the head of the courtroom.  
'Wednesday the 3rd of November 2013, test of detonator button supplied by Q branch.' said a drawling voice in the video. 'Clear.' A few people in the background stepped out of the shot, leaving the supposed bomb alone. It was almost eerie how it seemed to control the silence of the room.  
It was activated.  
It exploded ferociously, causing the cameraman to retreat quickly. The film shook as the camera was thrust into its safer position. The screen faded to black.  
'As you can see, the test confirmed to us that this device was extremely deadly and was intended for use on Agent Bond and Agent Lister.' Before sitting back down, M glanced to Q. He had an evil twinkle, swirled within his pupils. M could hardly bare to look upon the monster he had created.  
The prosecution lawyer began, once again, to question Bond.  
'And how would you describe the accused, Agent Bond?'  
'Q has always been quite...distant from me,' He flashed a smirk at him, in the gallows. He knew Q wanted to be tested. Every look was a challenge.  
Come on, make it hard for me.  
'I never talked to him long enough to form a proper opinion. Wish I could've done.' Q was loving it. His inward squeal was nothing new to Bond, and it frankly amused him.  
The prosecutor seemed fractious. He straightened his wig with a worried hand.  
'So you wouldn't put it past him to do what he is accused of?'  
'No, not at all.' M, red with anticipation and blind fury, let out an audible sigh of relief. They wanted Q behind bars, and Bond was finally playing along.  
'Although...' he began, much to the prosecution team's dismay, 'he seems quite harmless. Quite weak, actually. I doubt he could pull all this off on his lonesome.'  
'You believe he had an accomplice?'  
'My beliefs are hardly relevant in court.'  
'Thank you, Agent Bond.' The prosecutor, desperation still circulating through his body, nodded to the judge.  
'Very well, Mr Featherstone. If we could now hear the case for the accused.' He gestured broadly towards the defence lawyer. He stood, his head bowed.  
'Defence calls the accused to the stand.'


	12. Chapter 12

Q rose, a smile growing on his lips. There was a sudden rift in the proceedings; a silence rife with hostility and abhorrence. He seemed to feed off their detestation, lapping up the attention he'd never been given. It was almost delicious.  
He approached the witness box. His lawyer tittered between his two feet, shoes squeaking against the floor.  
'So, erm, Agent Q-'  
'It's just Q.' he winked subtly at the lawyer. The red tinge in his cheeks told Q that he'd seen.  
'Erm, where were you on the day you were allegedly sighted at the Daisy Cafe?'  
'I was nowhere near White Conduit Street. I was sat at home.' The lawyer began again, scared to look directly at the Judge.  
'So you see, Your Honour, the accused couldn't have-'  
'If I may?' M's lawyer interrupted. He received a nod from the Judge and continued.  
'Do you have anyone who can back up this alibi?'  
'No, I don't believe I do.' Q replied with a sly smile.  
'So you could have been at the cafe when Agent Hudderson said you were?'  
'I suppose I could have.'  
'Is this a confession?'  
'No, Sir. Simply humouring you. If you'd like me to stop-'  
'I'd like you to answer the questions.'  
'Terribly sorry. I'll try to behave.' The lawyer sighed, readying himself for the next round of questioning.  
'And what-'  
'Oh, before you go on,' Q interjected, his joyful persona still radiating against the silent malevolence of the room, 'I do have one thing to do.' Before anyone could stop him, Q pulled out a gun and shot the prosecutor expertly through the chest. He fell instantly, the bullet ricocheting against the bench and hitting him in the back. Screams began, and people ran for cover. More shots sounded, crying out against the panicked air. Bond patted his pocket. No gun. Where could it-  
'You coming, 007?' Thrust in front of him was his own gun, held by the delightfully disgraced ex-Quartermaster.  
'Are you mad?'  
'You know, I think I might be.' He grabbed Bond by the arm and yanked him through the crowd.  
'If I didn't know any better, I'd say you were using me as a shield.'  
'You know Mi6. Shoot first, ask questions later.'  
'Surely not.' Bond gasped, in a mock-disbelief. Q smiled, weaving quickly in and out of the nervous court-goers. No-one could recognise him in such a frantic rush. Perfect plan.  
They finally reached the door.  
'Is this where we say goodbye?' James glanced back in at the mayhem and terror. People tripped over their own feet and the feet of their colleagues, scrambling to anywhere they deemed safe. It was like a scene from the end of the world. Bond looked back to Q, a childish excitement and adventure in his eyes.  
'Not in a million years.'

THE END


End file.
